


Absolution on Bruised Knees

by Brokenwords



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Body Dysphoria, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dom Bucky Barnes, I'm sure I'm missing tags, M/M, Mild Verbal Humiliation, Minor Violence, Oneshot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Rough Sex, Sub Steve Rogers, Subspace, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26518204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brokenwords/pseuds/Brokenwords
Summary: They call him a National Icon, a Hero, a paragon of righteousness. And it bothers him, but only because he knows it’s not true. He isn’t pure or good. He’s just a kid from another time with too much fury wrapped up in a pretty package that was given to him by someone else.  And when it gets too much, the pressure, the expectations, the praise, all coalescing into dysphoria, this is where he wants to be. Shoved into a wall, stripped bare and used.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 37
Kudos: 213





	Absolution on Bruised Knees

It’s shameful, cheeks stained hot and breath unsteady. Mortifying even, to be pressed so degradingly against the wall, hips tugged backward and forearm across his shoulders pinning him in place. He can hear the slippery slick slide of a lubed palm sliding over a hard cock and he knows this is going to hurt. 

But it’s not the position that has his cheeks stained red where they are pressed against drywall. It’s the fact that he’s achingly hard and he’s barely been touched. It’s that he knows he’s going to be pressed into with barely any prep, just a lot of lubrication, and it’s going to burn, and he’s moaning at just the thought. It’s the idea that if he wanted to he’d be more than strong enough to pull free, but he won’t. It’s the knowledge that nothing anyone thinks about him is true. 

They call him a National Icon, a _Hero_ , a paragon of righteousness. And it bothers him, but only because he knows it’s not true. He isn’t pure or good. He’s just a kid from another time with too much fury wrapped up in a pretty package that was given to him by someone else. And when it gets too much, the pressure, the expectations, the praise, all coalescing into dysphoria, this is where he wants to be. Shoved into a wall, stripped bare and _used_.

He loves the pain; loves the startling tug of his body being molded into submission as his hips are grabbed, tight enough that the bruises will actually stay for longer than a few hours. Loves it when _he_ pushes in, hard and fast and with no warning. 

One of his fists hits the wall the same time his breath is sucked in and he’s gasping; the pain radiating down his wrist giving him something else to focus on other than the burning heat in his lower half. Pain. Pleasure. It’s all mixed up and it hurts, and yet he can hear his own voice, pleading through the rushing in his ears. _“More.”_

There is a dark chuckle, warm and fondly cruel in his ear as a wet mouth clamps down and tugs. “You don’t get to demand, pet.” 

_”Pet,_ ” a degrading nickname and he almost wishes it didn’t turn him on so much to hear it. But in here, behind closed curtains and locked doors, he doesn’t need to worry that anyone will hear. Anyone but Bucky that is. Bucky, so cruel and giving behind him, pressing in harder even after his words of warning dominance, giving Steve exactly what he needs. 

Of course Bucky won’t tell anyone. Steve trusts him with his life, always has. Bucky would never betray him. Bucky gives him everything he wants. Who would believe him anyway? They all think Steve is a prude, too shy to ask out a lady, too uptight to demean himself with sex. They would never believe he begs for this, pleads to be taken apart and out of his own mind. He spent years without it, cold and alone without anyone to debase him when it all got too much. But now Bucky is back. Bucky is back and stronger than ever. Strong enough to hold Steve down, metal arm whirring and fingers cutting in deep. 

It’s sadistic, it’s masochistic, and as he feels teeth sink into his shoulder, it’s not the knowledge that he’s going to have to wear a high collar at the rewards dinner he’s scheduled to speak at later that sparkles through his pain, it’s the fact that it feels incredible. “Please,” he whispers, breath panting and gasping for air that just doesn’t seem to ever be enough, and he likes that too. 

But it’s nothing like the way his air is robbed when Bucky pulls out, grabbing his hair, spinning him around and shoving him to his knees, painful on the hardwood. Not when he’s leaning forward to lick and suck and just _breathe_ as his mouth is nothing short of fucked. Its absolution, fucked out and broken on his knees. 

It’s so _dirty_ and _wrong_ that he feels his cock leak in time with the thrusts down his throat. Deep and long and _fuck_ he really barely can suck in enough air. There is a thrill of fear that snakes down his spine at that, and that’s arousing too, in that frightening sort of way that makes this so damn perfect. 

It’s not really dangerous. Steve knows that if he wants it to stop, it will. That if he says no, and _means_ it, uses his safe word, Bucky will pull back. He _trusts_ him. Or else they’d never be here. He likes to flirt with darkness yes, but not foolishly. Or at least not completely stupidly. There is a reason he hides this part of him, that he didn’t go to anyone else when Bucky was gone, that alone punishment enough. 

He can’t even remember what happened tonight to make him need this, and right now he doesn’t care. He just wants to come, to jerk himself off in time with Bucky’s thrusts and let his finish wash over. Only he knows if he does that, he’ll be in shit. He doesn’t dare come without Bucky’s permission, not knowing the punishment that will follow. The thought of the humiliation almost makes him want to do it just to see, to feel. But he doesn’t. He waits until he can feel the erratic change in Bucky’s pace and he knows that he’s close, and then he looks up, meets intense eyes and waits for the nod of permission. 

His hand is slick with sweat as he finally closes it around his cock and it barely takes a few jerks before he can feel the tell tale tightening in his gut. It's not enough though, he needs something more. A whine escapes his lips and at the sound he feels fingers gripping cruelly in his hair and he’s yanked backwards. The warmth of Bucky’s release splatters over him, decorating his lips and cheeks and then he’s coming too. A wave of pure feeling rushes over him and he’s sobbing out Bucky’s name as lights sparkle behind his eyelids before he slumps down and lets darkness takes over.

*

When he comes to, it’s to a warm cloth wiping his face. The fabric is rough on his sensitive skin and he moans softly. A soft chuckle, warm and light and _concerned_ sounds in the room again and his chin is tipped up. “Are you okay?” 

_Was I too rough?_ is the unspoken worry and Steve smiles a bit lopsidedly. His jaw feels sore and he won’t be walking quite properly for a few hours, but he feels fantastic. Better. “Perfect,” he whispers. “I feel perfect.”

Bucky smiles back and helps him to his feet, hands gentle as they rub the bruises they left just a few short moments previous. They will disappear soon enough but the act is kind. The bed, Bucky’s not Steve’s, is nearby and it doesn’t take much for them to flop onto it, suddenly exhausted. They’re in Bucky’s room, because even though they live together there are appearances to keep up. Curling into a ball he revels in the soft touch that runs through his hair, the careful hands that touch everywhere they hit, scratched, bruised. 

“Can I stay?” The words aren’t necessary but the vulnerability makes him say it anyway.

“I’d feel used if you didn’t,” Bucky answers teasingly, gently, trying to make Steve feel comfortable, accepted. Trying to find acceptance himself. And it works too, because if anything it was Bucky using Steve, at least physically. Physiologically, they are both using each other. Steve needs his control stripped and Bucky needs to hold it. To feel in charge when he had none for so long. 

Somehow though, as he’s pulled into a long armed embrace, Steve thinks it’s okay. Because here, in the dark of night, there is no one to judge either of them. Just the secrets they share hidden beneath the veneer of friendship the world sees. And as exhaustion tugs at Steve’s eyes, he feels safe in the knowledge that tomorrow Bucky will go back to looking at him as a friend and companion, loving but platonic, and no one will ever _know_ that Steve isn’t who they all expect him to be. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *cough* 
> 
> I don't really have anything to say about this but I hope you like it? 
> 
> [@brokenintowords](https://twitter.com/brokenintowords) on twitter


End file.
